


Warmth

by xylosis



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:05:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylosis/pseuds/xylosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saruhiko comes down with a nasty virus. Misaki, as always, takes care. </p><p>Pre-betrayal HOMRA days. For Sarumi Fest 2015.</p><p>(11/7/2015 edit: bonus chapter added!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. warmth

Fushimi Saruhiko hated admitting he was ill.

It was one of those things that he knew was stupid, to deny free help when he really needed it, but for he had a tendency remaining from childhood to keep his mouth shut whenever he felt unwell. He couldn't quite rationalize why the habit hadn't faded, he _knew_ that Yata would be understanding, but nevertheless retained the instinct to keep things himself for the sake of what he'd grown to believe to be his own best interest.

He'd been living with Yata for awhile now, they'd quit going to school about a year ago, and had been living in a modestly-sized studio apartment ever since. While Saru generally enjoyed Misaki's presence (though he'd never admit tell _him_ that) he occasionally struggled with his friend's keen ability to read him, and quickly be able to tell when something was wrong. He hated accepting help of any kind and exposing himself to people. It made him feel vulnerable, and after spending his entire childhood feeling vulnerable, he more or less _refused_ to experience those feelings again.

After a long day of work doing various tasks around town for HOMRA, the two walked home together, tired and in need of some dinner. Misaki set about making a hotpot once they got home, telling Saruhiko to set up the kotatsu and make tea. It was mid-January, and the cold weather always put Misaki in the mood for all of this. Saruhiko didn't mind, not really. It made their little dwelling feel like the home he'd never had.

They ate dinner together and watched TV for awhile before Saru stood up to head to bed, and Misaki decided he might as well sleep too. The lights were turned off and the two crawled into their shared bunk beds.

Misaki fell asleep almost immediately, and Saruhiko listened to his steady breathing for awhile as he always did. He laid still, after awhile wondering why he didn't feel like he could fall asleep despite how exhausted he was. He swallowed, noticing that his throat felt dry. Huffing in annoyance, he quietly climbed down from his bed and made his way to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Once he had, he brought it back up to bed with him, taking a few sips before putting it aside and lying back down.

He found the water hadn't really helped, as the dryness hadn't been alleviated much. He wondered if he was dehydrated, and finished off the water anyway.

An hour passed, and his dry throat had grown into a sore throat. He clutched at it, wincing slightly with each swallow.

As time passed, he gradually began to feel telltale chills rake his body despite his warm clothes and comforter, and sighed in annoyance. He just wanted to go to sleep. He was tired, he was beginning to feel ill, and his body wouldn't allow him the simple privilege of sleep. It was unfair for a number of reasons.

He laid in a miserable heap, unable to fall asleep for the next few hours as his fever rose and his sore throat worsened to the point where Saruhiko was beginning to feel like he would truly sell his soul for a cup of tea with honey. He listened to Misaki's even breathing and felt angry at the injustice of his friend's ability to sleep when he was just above, completely desperate for unconsciousness. He wished he could at least have some medicine to make his fever go down. He was too weak to make his way to get it, however, much to his chagrin.

More time passed. Saruhiko had fallen into a single, 15-minute-long slumber that was so dream-filled and stressful that he somehow felt worse when he awoke.

By the time 6am rolled around, Saruhiko felt like yelling in frustration but painstakingly resisted the urge. His chills were so intense that even curling himself up tight under every blanket on his bed wasn't enough to quell the teeth-chattering, bone-deep shivering he was experiencing, and his sore throat was so painful that every swallow brought the sting of tears to his eyes.

He finally decided, despite every instinct against it, to wake up Misaki and get help, or medicine, or tea, or _something_ to take the edge off of his misery. Reaching for a pillow, he grasped it and peered over the bed, throwing it as hard he could at his roommate, along with a raspy “Misaki...” uttered as loud as he could for added measure.

He managed to hit his target, and heard a confused groan along with some shifting of sheets. He was thankful for the first time he could recall that Misaki was a light sleeper.

“Misaki...” He mumbled again, hoping he'd woken him up.

“Ngh...Saru? It's....ugh, it's fucking...6 am...what do you _want_...” came an annoyed, sleepy growl.

Words seemed to fail him for a moment. “Misaki...” He began, breathless. “I don't...I don't feel good...” he finally managed to mumble, loathing how pathetic he sounded. He just couldn't bear it anymore. He'd been awake all night, he had a high fever, his throat was in searing pain, and he just wanted Misaki to fix him.

“...Wha...What? Oh shit...” He heard covers being hastily thrown aside and felt the vibrations of a person coming quickly up the ladder to his bed. A cool hand landed on his forehead. “Saruhiko, you're burning up!” He breathed, pulling his hands away in alarm. “Okay...okay. A-Ah, what hurts?!” Misaki asked, sounding a little frantic.

“Throat...” He answered, looking up blearily in the dimly lit room at Misaki.

“Okay...okay. I'm gonna get you some medicine...” He hurried down from the ladder and made his way to the cabinet, getting out a couple aspirin and pouring a glass of water. He carried both back up the ladder to his friend, and helped him sit upright to take the pills.

“What else? Do you want tea, or some soup? How about you sleep in my bed? That way it'll be easier for me to get to you...” Yata asked after his friend had flopped back down against the bed. Fushimi, however, just laid where he was, breathing laboriously and shivering.

“C-C'mon, Saru-kun. Come get in my bed, okay? It'll be easier if I don't have to stand on this ladder...y'know...to keep an eye on you...” Misaki continued, taking Saruhiko's shoulder. The younger of the two weakly sat up again, deciding his friend was right. After a few minutes (and with the help of Misaki, who made sure he didn't stumble and fall on the ladder), he was safely tucked into the lower bunk, with his friend sitting beside him, wiping his face down with a cool, damp cloth.

“Do you think you could try to go to sleep? I'll be here if you need something.”

Saruhiko nodded, looking dazedly up at his friend. He closed his eyes, inhaling Misaki's scent that surrounded him and made him feel safe as he drifted into a more comfortable, medicated sleep.

…

Misaki busied himself with changing the sheets on Saruhiko's bunk, making soup, and occasionally feeling his ill roommate's forehead just to make sure his temperature was going down and he was resting okay.

Saruhiko awoke around late morning while Yata was brewing tea. He watched as he moved around the kitchen, still in the sweatpants and long t-shirt he liked to sleep in. He took a moment to sleepily admire him as he carefully selected teabags from a few boxes and added them to the kettle. His eyes settled on his copper-red hair, had a glow to it in the soft morning light that he could easily make out even without his glasses. He blinked sleepily a few times, wondering about Yata's work schedule. He had a part-time job at a grocery store, and he seemed to recall that he had a shift that morning. Saruhiko felt a wave of guilt.

Misaki turned around, noticing Saruhiko's eyes beginning to open.

“Oh, you're awake! Do you want some tea? I can add honey to it, maybe that'd help your throat, yeah? Do you want some?”

“...Misaki?”

“Y-Yeah?” He asked, walking over towards him.

“Your work...the grocery store...” Saruhiko breathed.

“Ah, yeah...don't worry about that,” He said, giving a half smile. “I called and said I needed a sick day, so...did you want some tea?”

Saruhiko blinked in surprise and dazedly nodded. Misaki turned back around and made his way to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with the promised mug of tea in his hands. Just as he was about to help him sit up to drink it he stopped, noticing the appearance of his friend's face. He was even more pale than usual, if that was possible. His face would've been entirely devoid of any color if not for the sickly, bright red flush across his cheeks. His heart squeezed observing how ill he looked, and a surge of affection blossomed in his chest. He put the mug down, sitting down next to him and coaxing him to sit upright. Ushering him to lean against him, he kept a firm grip on his friend's side to help him remain vertical. He grabbed the tea, bringing it close to Saruhiko's pale, chapped lips.

“Here. Ah, just try a sip or two, okay? It'll help.”

Saruhiko reached a hand up, hoping he could manage a few sips without much assistance. He took the mug, putting it to his lips and taking a tentative sip.

It was the perfect temperature, just right to warm his throat all the way down and ease the soreness. It was sweet and comforting in a sense he couldn't explain if he tried. He finished about half of the tea off, finding that his throat didn't feel nearly as raw anymore.

“Do you want to go back to sleep now?” Misaki asked, replacing the mug on the bedside table. “The rest will help you get better...”

“Misaki...” Saruhiko mumbled, suddenly gripping Yata's shirt.

“Y-Yeah?”

He laid his head down on Misaki's shoulder wordlessly and closed his eyes.

Misaki blushed and looked down at him, feeling his worry intensify. He was beginning to wonder if he should call Izumo or something. Saru seemed a little delirious.

“Misaki...”

“Yeah, what's wrong?”

“Cold...”

“I-I'll get you another blanket. Do you want me to turn the TV on?”

Saruhiko shook his head. He was beginning to feel weary again and just wanted to go to sleep. His head was starting to throb and his shivers were coming back. Moments later, though, he felt the comforting weight of an additional blanket settle over him, and the mattress shift as Misaki sat down on it.

“Do you usually spike high fevers like this when you're sick?” He asked, touching his forehead briefly.

“Sometimes...” He mumbled, but his answer was really just the first noncommittal response that came to mind. His brain felt far too fuzzy to remember the details of past illnesses.

“A-Alright...well, get some sleep. I'll be here if you need me,” He said, drawing his hand back. Once Saruhiko rolled over and looked close to falling asleep, he went to draw the curtains and find his phone so he could text Izumo and verify that he was doing everything right. He was fairly certain he was, but he wanted to be sure.

Grabbing his phone, he shot Kusanagi a text.

_kusanagi-san, fushimi is sick, high fever and sore throat. is it k just to let him sleep?_

He reread the sent message and glanced over to his friend, who now appeared to be fully unconscious. He wondered if he'd gotten any sleep last night. He seemed exhausted. But that, he figured, also came with a fever. He knew from experience that fevers just made him want to curl up under lots of blankets and sleep, but that often wasn't so simple. His phone vibrated in his hand, interrupting his thoughts.

_How high is the fever? If he wants to sleep, let him sleep, but give him lots of fluids and some aspirin for his fever._

Misaki sighed. He'd done all of what Kusanagi was suggesting, but he still had a feeling of worry in his stomach  
 _  
i gave him aspirin and some tea for his throat earlier but he still feels hot. we don't have a thermometer and i don't want to leave him alone to go get one_

He hit send and put the phone down, worriedly adjusting the catalogs on the end table that he hadn't looked at yet to busy his hands until his phone vibrated again.

_I'll bring one. Just let him rest and make sure he has something to drink every time he wakes up. Be there in half in hour._

Yata felt a little relieved to be getting Izumo's help. Being the oldest in HOMRA, he had the most experience dealing with sick people out of everyone else. Beyond that, however, he just had more of a paternal instinct than the rest of them. Yata had always thought he'd make a great father if he ever had kids.

He waited for Izumo to arrive, feeling a little unsure of what to do with himself. He eventually settled on washing his face and getting dressed, having a little bit of the soup he'd made as a late breakfast.

Finally, there was a quiet tap at the door, and he made his way over, opening it and quietly greeting Izumo and letting him in.

“He's sleeping,” Yata murmured as Izumo handed him the thermometer. “Thanks for coming, Kusanagi-san.”

“No problem. When did this all start?” Izumo whispered, stepping in and walking over to peer at his young, ill clansmember.

Yata wasn't really sure. “I don't know...he seemed okay yesterday and last night, but he woke me up really early saying he didn't feel good, so I felt his forehead and he was burning hot. He said his throat really hurts.”

“Well, he prolly didn't sleep much last night if he was gettin' sick,” Izumo whispered in response. “He's probably just exhausted by now. D'ya think he'd wake up if you took his temperature?

“I'll try it. I dunno.”

Misaki took the thermometer, sitting down on the side of the bed and hitting the button. He carefully slid it into Fushimi's mouth, trying to get it under his tongue. The younger stirred, but didn't awaken or protest to the object being prodded into his mouth. He held it where it was until it beeped a few moments later and he carefully withdrew it.

“39.5,” He whispered, worriedly looking in Izumo's direction. “Isn't that too high?”

Izumo's brow furrowed in worry. “That is pretty high...” he murmured. “But don't wake him up just yet. Give him more medicine when he wakes up and make him drink lots and lots of fluids. If he takes a bad turn, call me and we'll bring him to a clinic.” That seemed reasonable to Misaki. He trusted Izumo with this stuff. He nodded.

“Okay.”

“Good. Well, text me or Totsuka if you need us to bring anything else. Hope he feels better soon. Take good care of him,” Izumo whispered, smiling encouragingly at Yata with a wink. “I know you will.”

“...Y-Yeah, of course, thank you, Kusanagi-san.”

And with that, Yata was alone with Saruhiko again. He looked around, feeling useless being unable to help his friend. He stood around uncomfortably for a minute before deciding it'd be best to sit down and busy himself so he wouldn't just stew in his own worry.

He picked up his handheld game console, turning off the volume, and settled down to play his game while Saru napped.

…

Saru awoke awhile later with a groan. He sat up on his elbows, and the state of his disarrayed hair would've been amusing if not coupled with the angry fever flush across his cheeks. Misaki hurried over when he heard him beginning to awaken.

“Misaki...?” came Saruhiko's weak, raspy croak.

“Hey, Saru. I'm here,” He told him, laying his hand on his shoulder.

“Hurts...” He whispered, eyes closing again.

“Right, just give me one second, okay? I'll get you some medicine and a cup of ice water, too,” He said, hurrying up from the side of the bed and over to the kitchen. He hastily got out two pills and a poured of a cup of water for his ill friend.

He made his way back over to him, and Saruhiko painstakingly sat up, using one hand to keep himself upright, and the other to swallow his pills and a few sips of the cold water he'd been given. Misaki realized, watching him take his medicine, that it was about 3:30 in the afternoon and Saruhiko still hadn't eaten. He looked back over to the medley soup he'd made, which was being kept warm on the stovetop.

“Are you hungry?” Misaki asked.

“No...” came the mumbled response.

“You need to eat something to get better, okay? I made some medley soup! My mom used to make it for me and my siblings whenever one of us got sick. Here, I'll be right back.”

Fushimi only grunted, lacking the energy to reiterate that he was _not_ hungry and didn't feel well enough to eat.

When Misaki returned, he had a tray with a spoon and a small bowl filled with soup. Misaki smirked at him. “Want me to feed you?”

“Fuck off,” came the tired, annoyed reply. Misaki just smiled, placing the tray in his friend's lap. Saruhiko reluctantly picked up the spoon, dipping it in the broth tentatively and taking a bite.

It was warm and savory and felt _so_ good on his sore throat. He realized he was just a little more hungry than he initially thought, and ended up being able to finish off a few bites before he shook his head at Yata, signaling he couldn't handle any more.

Misaki kindly took his tray away when he was finished, coming back to instruct him to take a few more sips of water. Fushimi obeyed, too tired to argue and knowing he was too dehydrated to say no.

“Want me to set up a bed for you on the couch? To watch TV?” Misaki asked. “Looks boring just sitting there in bed.”

Saruhiko considered for a moment before nodding noncommittally. With that, Misaki went about gathering Saru's blankets from the upper bunk along with his pillows and got everything set up on the couch. Once he was finished, he went to the bedside, ready to help him get up and to the couch.

“Do you think you can walk a few steps?”

Saruhiko gave him a cold glare – or as cold a glare as someone who was hardly able to sit up could manage. He pointedly stood up on his own, using the wall for support as a wave of vertigo hit him. Misaki noticed his eyes glazing over and the way he slumped, and went to his side to help him stay upright, saying nothing as to spare his friend's pride. He took his arm, guiding him to the couch. Saruhiko sank onto it, seizing the opportunity to lie back down.

“...Alright now?” Misaki asked, watching Saruhiko curl up under the comforter he'd put on the couch. Saruhiko nodded slightly. He wasn't facing the TV the way he was laying, Yata observed, but he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV anyway. He wasn't sure what his friend would like to watch (or even if he was interested, for that matter), but when he found a lower-budget kung fu movie on, he decided that would suffice.

Saruhiko turned his head in the direction of the TV, watching it sleepily. Even if the movie _had_ been interesting, he didn't feel like he could focus. His vision swam slightly and his head and throat were aching. He laid quietly, mindlessly staring at the screen. Misaki sat on the worn armchair nearby, stealing glances at his friend every so often. He felt like he was worrying too much, but he swore anyone would worry the way he was if they could see just how _sick_ he looked. Feeling restless, he stood up and went to sit on one end of the couch.

Saruhiko made a small grunt of confusion, opening the eyes he'd just closed. Misaki, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself, awkwardly reached over to touch his forehead.

“A-Are you, ah...are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?” He stuttered unsurely, averting his eyes and withdrawing his hand.

Saruhiko mumbled something that Misaki couldn't make out. “H-Hah? Didn't hear you...”

“Just stay with me...” he repeated, clear enough to be heard this time.

“O-Of course. Here...” He stood up from the end of the couch next to where Saruhiko's feet rested and walked around by his head. He tentatively pushed his friend upright just long enough to sit down where his head had rested and usher him to set his head in his lap. Saruhiko felt his face heat up from more than just fever. He sighed and closed his eyes anyway, falling asleep to the murmur of the movie playing in the background and delicate fingers pushing his damp hair off of his sweaty forehead.

…

When Fushimi awoke again, his head was no longer in his friend's lap. His body felt sweaty and cold all at once and his stomach, now right along with this throat and head, was aching. He could feel something cold and wet moving along his forehead, and blinked a few times, his current caregiver coming somewhat into focus.

Yata met eyes with him and raised his eyebrows. “Hey, you're awake. You were out for awhile.”

Fushimi swallowed, wincing as he did, and tried to speak. “How long?” he asked, the words coming out as a parched whisper. He was pulled upright and given a sip of water before he received an answer.

“I think about four hours. I dozed off for a little while too, actually, and woke up a couple hours ago. How do you feel?”

“I'm fine,” Saruhiko responded automatically.

“Don't lie, Saru. How do you feel?” Misaki pressed.

He just shrugged, not feeling up to conversation. His stomach was beginning to churn and he just wanted to lock his jaw and fall back asleep.

“Do you want some more aspirin? It's been long enough, you can have more now.”

Saruhiko just shook his head. Suddenly, swallowing anything at all just seemed like a bad idea.

“Tea? Soup?” Misaki pressed.

“ _No,”_ Saruhiko grumbled. He really wished Misaki would stop offering him things to drink or eat, despite his good intentions. He was becoming more and more nauseous by the minute and truly felt like he _would_ vomit on Yata if he kept offering. He closed his eyes again, taking in deep breaths, trying to quell the churning in his stomach. He kept his jaw locked, silently willing himself to keep his stomach contents down.

“Saruhiko? You okay?”

Perhaps the question made him realize all of a sudden that he was not okay, or perhaps the question broke his concentration on keeping his stomach contents contained, or maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, though, all of a sudden Saruhiko found it necessary to scramble to his feet and make a dash for the bathroom, getting there just in time to fall onto his knees and lose the contents of his stomach into the bowl.

“Saruhiko!” Misaki exclaimed, running in after him. “Oh god...”

Saruhiko whimpered without consciously deciding to, and hugged his stomach in an effort to soothe the shooting pains in his abdomen. He felt a hand fall between his shoulder blades.

“Deep breaths, o-okay? I-I'll call Kusanagi-san in a minute. You need to see a doctor, okay? Do you want some water to rinse your mouth?” Yata asked as he worriedly rubbed Fushimi's back.

Fushimi took a break from his laborious breathing to interject. “No...no doctor...”

“Saruhiko –”

“ _No,”_ He pressed, pausing afterward to gulp and cautiously lean a little closer to the toilet as his stomach did a flip. “I'll...I'm fine. A doctor isn't going to do anything to help,” He took a few shaky breaths before continuing. “Doctors can't do a-anything for a virus...”

Misaki sighed, and used the hand that wasn't on Saru's back to reach around and feel his forehead.

“You still feel really hot...” He murmured. “Are you done?”

“...don't know...” Saruhiko answered, his voice shaking.

“Let's just stay here and wait and see how you do, then,” Yata murmured, moving his hand up and down between his friend's shoulder blades in an effort to quell his shaking.

“ _You_ don't need to...stay in here with me...I'm fine...” He snapped, trying to pull away.

“I think we have established you are _not_ fine, Saru,” Misaki said gently. “Besides, I don't mind. My mom used to do this for me when I had stomach bugs. It always helped me calm down.”

Saruhiko sighed, closing his eyes and laying his cheek against the cold porcelain seat. He quickly realized that Misaki was definitely _not_ going to leave him to his privacy. But in a strange way, he didn't mind, not really. It wasn't like the hand moving gently up and down his back felt _bad_ or anything. He could...tolerate it.

Misaki idly chattered to him about unrelated subjects, like the video game he wished they had the money for and the skateboarding move he wanted to learn, in an effort to distract him from how bad he felt. Fushimi was only absorbing bits and pieces of what he was saying, but the sound of his voice seemed to help him relax. After a few minutes, Saruhiko's nausea had faded considerably and he was ready to lie back down.

After rinsing his mouth out and quickly brushing his teeth, Fushimi followed Yata's lead back to his bed and laid down, wondering how it could be possible for every individual cell in his entire body to feel so miserable. He could tell his fever had spiked up due to the way he was shivering, but his stomach was still too sensitive to take any medicine at the moment. He suppressed the urge to groan.

A few moments later, there was again the blessed feeling of a cool, damp cloth wiping his forehead and a shift in the mattress as Misaki sat down beside him. He spent a few minutes carefully wiping his face before moving to his neck, arms, and hands. It felt incredibly nice, and he sighed softly, closing his eyes, mystified at his friend's willingness to devote such _time_ to him when he felt like nothing more than a sweaty, sick, useless wreck. _Stupid Misaki,_ he thought fondly. _Couldn't you be out on that dumb skateboard or something right now instead?_

The cloth was put aside, but as he waited for the excess weight of his friend to leave the bed, it didn't.

There was a pause and Saruhiko felt his heart flutter, and suddenly a pair of thin, dry lips pressed against his, lingered for only a second, and then left.

“U-Um...it's comforting, right?” Misaki asked sheepishly after Fushimi's eyes opened in surprise, suddenly seeming to become aware of what he just did. “To get a kiss when you don't feel good? Like, it makes you feel like someone cares no matter what, right, Saruhiko?” He stammered, blushing and avoiding eye contact.

Saruhiko felt himself smile a little for the first time in what had to have been days. “...You're gonna get sick, idiot.” He croaked, but Misaki could see the smile on his face.

“Shut up, Saruhiko,” He replied with a smirk, unable to conceal the affection in his tone. “But you're probably right. I guess I should go find a face mask or something for you to wear, shouldn't I?”

“Misaki,” Saruhiko mumbled, feeling weak as the adrenaline from the kiss was beginning to fade. He closed his fingers around Yata's limply.

Misaki hesitated for a moment, but shifted himself to lie down so that Saruhiko's head fit neatly in the crook between his head and neck, and wrapped his arms around his friend, who despite absolutely _radiating_ heat continued to shiver.

“When _I_ wake _you_ up at the ass-crack of dawn whining that I don't feel good, you better take care of me, too,” He grumbled, hugging him close.

Saruhiko just smiled to himself, nestling into the warm embrace, and despite the fever and sore throat and plethora of other nasty symptoms, Fushimi wasn't sure he'd ever felt this safe and happy and _warm_  before in his life.

 


	2. middle school

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promised bonus chapter! Decided to post on Saruhiko's birthday. Middle school Sarumis, crying, and stomach bugs. Emetophobia warning for some brief mentions of vomiting.

Saruhiko hadn't slept well. He'd awoken feeling tired, weak, and a little shaky, but he knew better than to mention anything to his father, who had unfortunately come home by surprise a couple evenings ago. There wasn't much of anywhere to go with the stormy weather recently, so he was enduring him until he inevitably ran off again.

He slowly put his school uniform on, trying to shake himself out of his sleepy haze. He was pulling a comb through his hair when he heard his father call for him.

“Saruhiiiiikoooooo,” He sang, and Fushimi's blood ran cold, skin crawling. He didn't know Niki was awake, and the fact that he was was worrisome. “I made you breakfaaaast!” He sang, and his son's fear only deepened.

Of course, on the one morning he woke up not feeling well, Niki just _had_ to make some sort of 'breakfast'. He swallowed hard. It wasn't like he'd be able to get out of eating any. He took a deep breath, and made his way downstairs, keeping his eyes down as he always did when dealing with his father.

“Good _morning_ , my little _monkey,_ ” Niki purred, and Saruhiko tensed. “I got up and _cooked_ for you! Aren't I nice?”

Saruhiko just silently sat at the table, accepting defeat. Moments later, Niki approached him with a bowl, and set it down in front of him with a devilish smirk. He queasily looked down at the contents of the bowl in front of him and felt his stomach do a flip-flop. In his bowl was oatmeal, obviously very creamy and with a repulsive amount of butter and sugar and sprinkles added.

“I made it _sweet_ ,” Niki drawled. “ _Just_ like my little monkey.”

Saruhiko said nothing. He couldn't let that guy win. He'd just eat it without complaint, take his things, and leave. That was all he had to do. Simple.

He bravely took a bite, and refused to let his face reveal just how nauseating Niki's 'breakfast' was to consume. The sweetness was overwhelming, sickening, and made his teeth hurt. He powered through, shoving spoonful after spoonful into his mouth robotically, swallowing and repressing the urge to vomit, until Niki seemed to lose interest, realizing Saruhiko didn't seem to have any reaction. Once he was gone, Saruhiko spit out what remained in his mouth, hurrying to dump his bowl in the sink and grab his things and walk to school.

If nothing else, he rejoiced just a tiny bit at the fact that he hadn't let Niki win, at least not this time.

...

Yata noticed almost immediately that something was wrong with Saruhiko that morning. He was even more standoffish than usual, and he looked perhaps a little unwell. He'd kept his head down and his arms wrapped around his stomach almost all morning.

“Hey, Saruhiko!” Yata whispered between lessons. “You okay? You had your head down the whole lesson.”

The truth was that Saruhiko didn't feel okay at all. He was so nauseous that he was afraid to move even slightly. His whole body felt like it was sweating, he could feel his mouth over-salivating, and he was struck with dizziness every time he tried to lift his head up.

When Saruhiko didn't answer, Yata began worrying. Should he ask the teacher if he could walk him to the nurse? Would that anger Saruhiko? Probably, but...wouldn't that be the right thing to do?

As the next lesson began, Yata was busy debating with himself, but soon the decision was made for him when Saruhiko suddenly threw up, through the hand over his mouth, onto the floor beside his desk.

A muted gasp could be heard from the students in the class as everyone fell into stunned silence, turning to look at him, and Yata stared in what could only be described as sympathetic horror.

Saruhiko had heard the panic alarms going off in his head, screaming for him to get to the bathroom, but he just hadn't been fast enough. He sat with his eyes closed, afraid to open them and see the mess he'd made and the students staring in disgust. He knew he _needed_ to get out of there, as he still felt nauseous and he could hear the other pupils whispering, but it was almost as if he was frozen in place, with one hand braced over his mouth and the other clutching his stomach.

“Yata-kun, walk Fushimi to the nurse,” The teacher instructed quickly, putting her dry erase marker down and turning to another student. “Watanabe-kun, go see if you can find a custodian to clean up. Everyone else stay where you are and be quiet.”

Yata hurriedly stood up, stepped over the mess on the ground, and took Fushimi by the shoulder, pulling him to stand up and walk out of the classroom. Fushimi kept his shaky hand clamped over his mouth, following Yata's lead despite tears clouding his vision.

Once they were out in the hall, away from their teacher and the other students, Yata murmured to his friend, who was beginning to breathe erratically. “Let's get you cleaned up in the bathroom first, okay?” he asked, a gentle tone to his voice.

Fushimi followed Yata into the bathroom, and washed his hands off at the sink that Yata turned on. Soon after, he felt the panic alarms going off in his head again, and quickly ducked into a stall, kneeling down just in time to bring up more of the awful breakfast his father had made him eat.

Misaki hovered nervously nearby as his friend continued to get sick, wincing at the sounds of retching echoing off the tile walls. Once he seemed to quiet down, he leaned forward and knocked on the stall.

“Saruhiko, hey, if you're finished, we can go to the nurse. She'll let you lay down and give you something to help your stomach, okay?”

A moment later, the toilet flushed and the stall unlocked and Fushimi emerged, looking disheveled and feverish, with his hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead. He did his best to rinse his mouth at the sink, trying not to look at his reflection, and was about to follow Yata's lead out of the bathroom when it suddenly dawned on him all of what had just transpired, and what was soon to come.

He didn't want Misaki to see him cry. He really, really didn't. He could feel panic set in, and before he could take control of himself, his eyes filled with tears again and he blinked, the tears cascading down his cheeks, and a choked sob escaped his throat as he hurriedly pushed his glasses up and scrubbed the tears away with his sleeves.

“Hey, Saruhiko...” Misaki began softly, after whirling around with eyes wide in surprise at the sound of a choked sob. He reached out and touched his shoulder. Fushimi quickly jerked away and took a step back. He inhaled sharply, and held the breath, knowing that if he let it out he'd sob again. His legs felt too wobbly to stand, and he pushed his back against a nearby wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, hands over his face, doing everything in his limited power to stop crying.

He felt a presence nearby after a few seconds, sitting down next to him. He slowly exhaled, determined to suppress the sobs caught up in his chest.

“Hey, don't worry, Saruhiko,” Misaki encouraged, keeping his voice down. “Everyone will know that you were sick and couldn't help it. And even if they don't, we don't care about what they think anyway, right?”

Saruhiko didn't answer, keeping the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes, taking soft, quavering breaths, and wishing he could just disappear.

“It's okay,” He encouraged. “Take your time and calm down. We can go to the nurse whenever you're ready.”

Saruhiko's head was starting to ache, as if it'd been stuffed full of cotton, and he was hardly hearing his friend speak anymore. If they went to the nurse, they'd call Niki, who would _gladly_ come and pick him up, and just as soon as they were away from the school, cackle incessantly about how _funny_ it was that he had puked in front of his _whole_ class, and won't they all think you're gross now, Saruhiko? A gross little _monkey?_

He tensed, and a sputtered sob broke out of his throat before he could think to stop it, more tears soaking into his sleeves. He couldn't suppress the next choked sobs that escaped him either, the thought of Niki terrorizing him when he already felt sick and painfully embarrassed just too much to bear. The fear was coming down on him in the familiar claustrophobic flood, as he couldn't imagine any way this _wouldn't_ happen. All he was able to do was miserably cry and curl in on himself, trapped, unable to do anything.

Misaki reached out slowly to lay a hand on his shoulder. It pained him to see his best friend this way, but it also greatly surprised him. He normally _was_ resilient to a lot of things, and largely didn't care about the opinions of the other students at school. He had to wonder if something else was wrong.

“Saruhiko...do you want to talk to me about it?”

Fushimi shook his head, swallowing hard and wiping his cheeks.

“Does your stomach just really hurt? The nurse could help...I'll go get her and bring her here if you're feeling too sick to walk,” He murmured, trying to be careful with words and not upset him further.

Fushimi again shook his head. “Just...just stay here,” he mumbled, in between shaky breaths.

“...Okay, Saruhiko. I'll stay right here.”

The two sat quietly for the next few minutes, while Saruhiko gradually calmed down, taking deep breaths at Yata's instruction. He eventually pulled his hands away from his face, and hugged them around his stomach as he became aware of how sick he still felt.

“I can go to the nurse now,” He mumbled, and Yata quickly stood and helped him upright, pulling one of his arms over his shoulder once they were standing.

Misaki steadied his friend as they walked, and Fushimi hesitantly accepted the help, keeping one arm curled defensively over his churning stomach and the other over Yata's shoulders. He had no desire to lose his balance on top of everything else.

Once they arrived at the school office, the secretary took one look at Fushimi and motioned for them to walk back and to the nurses' office. As soon as they got there, Fushimi let himself fall into a chair and left the explaining to Yata.

“Fushimi-kun got sick in class and threw up,” He informed the nurse, who had risen from her desk once they walked in. “Sensei asked me to bring him here.”

“I'm sure sorry to hear that,” She replied gently, retrieving a thermometer from a nearby drawer and putting a sterilized plastic cover on the probe. Walking over to him, she murmured, “I'm going to take your temperature, alright? And after that, you can lie down until your mother can take you home.” Fushimi didn't answer, just took the thermometer into his mouth when prompted and waited. A high pitched beep resonated around the small office, and the woman hummed.

“You're running a bit of a fever...must have stomach flu,” She said, with practiced sympathy to her voice. She reached under a cabinet and produced a plastic basin. “Fushimi-kun, you hold on to that, in case you feel like you're going to get sick again. You can come lie down back here, if you'd like?” She offered, pushing back a curtain to reveal a darkened room with a cot inside.

He rose and walked on wobbly legs back into the room, basin in tow, lying down on the cot and closing his eyes, curling up for warmth as he could feel himself beginning to shiver.

“Good. Now, shall I call your mom to come and get you? Do you know her number?”

Saruhiko shook his head, and looked to the side, relieved to see that Yata was still there. “She doesn't live with me,” He mumbled. “My dad...but...but...he's out of town,” He lied, the idea coming to him suddenly out of desperation.

“Who's taking care of you right now, then?” She asked, looking concerned.

Saruhiko gave a feeble shrug. “He's only gone for...ah...today and tomorrow...so he thought...I'd be fine on my own,” He said, adding onto his lie and hoping what he was saying sounded believable.

“If you're sick, you need someone to take care of you,” The nurse replied. “I'm not sure what I should do if there's no one.”

Yata had been silent, at first deciding he would just see how this all played out. But suddenly, an idea occurred to him.

“My mom doesn't work, she takes care of my sister during the day, so Saruhiko can come to my house for now! I'll give you her number so you can call her, okay?”

“...Alright,” The nurse's assistant replied after a moment of hesitation, seeming unsure. “I guess that's the only thing we can do for now,” She sighed, and it was obvious that she wasn't entirely happy with this outcome. Yata assumed she vastly preferred to see children taken home with their own mothers in situations like this.

“Fushimi-kun? Is that alright with you? Are you sure you don't have a grandmother or someone else who could take you in for now?”

“There's no one,” He mumbled. “I'll go with Yata.”

Her face softened. “Everything will be alright, Fushimi-kun. You'll see your father again soon, right? There isn't long to wait.”

The sick student lying on the cot tensed. At any other time, he would've found the irony of her attempt at comfort funny, but he just nodded curtly, trying not to be affected by the truth of her words.

...

Thankfully, Yata's mother had easily agreed to take Saruhiko in, and he could only feel astounded that he'd gotten out of what had seemed an inevitable fate of taunting and teasing in the wake of the events of that morning.

She arrived not long after the call was made, and drove the two boys home, and both were thankful she didn't ask for more details on where his dad was.

“I'm so sorry you're sick, Fushimi-kun. You can take a nap once we're home, alright?” She'd said simply, and Fushimi numbly nodded. Her words were warm and her smile was warm as she glanced at him through the rearview mirror and he didn't understand any of it, the warmth.

They arrived home, and Yata shyly helped his friend change into a t-shirt and sweatpants that were a little too big on him, but seemed to fit his friend just fine.

“You can sleep in my bed for now,” He told him. “My mom is downstairs making some porridge for you to eat. She always makes it when we're sick, it's the best.”

“I'm not hungry,” He mumbled. In fact, he was beginning to feel quite the opposite of hungry. Saliva was pooling in his mouth and the awful feeling from that morning was beginning to creep back into his body.

“Misaki,” He said simply, suddenly unable to articulate his increasing need for a bathroom. He settled for covering his mouth with his hand and closing his eyes as a small, unintended groan escaped him.

“Ah! Okay, follow me...” Yata quickly put an arm around his friend's back and urged him to walk, turning him as needed until they made it to a small bathroom.

Fushimi knelt down while the shorter of them lifted the lid and seat of the toilet just in time to watch his friend pitch forward to get sick for the third time that day.

Saruhiko retched hard, bringing up what little was left in his stomach before beginning to dry heave. Everything was hot and painful and awful and he just wanted it all to stop, he didn't want Yata to see any of this, he didn't want to continue heaving when there was nothing left in his stomach, he didn't want to feel hot tears bubbling out of his eyes, it was stupid and he hated it all and wanted everything to stop.

It took him a moment to notice the warm hand between his shoulder blades, moving up and down a little. He continued to heave, unable to piece together an understanding for the contact.

“Saruhiko, take a deep breath, sit up a little. It'll help...”

Saruhiko tried to do what he said, but his body was determined to hunch over in a futile and desperate attempt to rid itself of something not there.

“Deep breathes, sit up...” Yata murmured again, rubbing him between the shoulder blades. It felt odd to be repeating the advice his mother had given him once when he was plagued with the same problem, but it seemed like the best thing to do. As worried as he was, he did his best to emanate the calm demeanor his mother always had when helping him to calm down.

After a moment, Fushimi managed a few shaky breaths, sitting up so he was leaning against the side of the bathtub. He avoided eye contact with Yata, focusing on keeping his stomach at bay.

They sat in an admittedly uncomfortable silence as Saruhiko drew his knees to his chest and began shivering, and Yata sat by, making sure he didn't go into another spell of dry heaves. After a few minutes, Yata flushed the toilet and spoke up.

“Ah...do you think you can rinse your mouth out and go lie down?”

Fushimi nodded, painstakingly standing up and rinsing his mouth at the sink before trudging his way back to his friend's room, lying down on the bed when Yata motioned for him to do so. He pulled the blankets around himself, closing his eyes and feeling the exhaustion suddenly hit him like a truck.

“Are you sure there isn't something you need right now?” Yata asked again.

Fushimi shook his head, feeling his body falling quickly into unconsciousness, and didn't fight the urge to sleep as Yata drew the curtains and darkened the room.

...

When Fushimi awoke again, it was to an aching stomach, heavy limbs, rain against the window, and the soft noises of a game system coming from the floor beside the bed. He figured Yata must have been lying on the floor playing his game, but couldn't muster the strength to scoot to the side and peek over the edge of the bed towards the noise.

“Misaki?” He asked, his voice coming out softer and more gravelly than he'd intended.

“Saruhiko!” Yata replied, quickly standing up, the video game music pausing. “You're awake! How do you feel?”

He shrugged, trying to deepen himself in the blankets as a shiver traveled up his spine. Yata scooted to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Do you have any appetite yet?” He asked, studying the uncomfortable expression on his face and realizing that that had probably been a stupid question, and wasn't surprised when Fushimi shook his head, making a face.

“Well, you can tell me whenever you're hungry. My mom made porridge, and it's the best when you're sick,” He said, smiling warmly. “Oh, and my mom told me to take your temperature once you were awake, so open up, okay?”

Fushimi normally would have rolled to the side and refused, just for the sake of being difficult, but he was too tired to even put forth the effort. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, letting Misaki stick the device in his mouth.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few seconds until the thermometer beeped with its reading, and Yata pulled it from his mouth.

“It says 38.7, so you still have a fever.”

Fushimi wasn't really surprised, and just nodded. He was feeling some chills and the beginnings of a headache, and if it weren't for the increasingly uncomfortable stomachache, he might have given the porridge a try. He rolled the the side, curling into fetal position and closing his eyes, resisting the urge to groan from how uncomfortable he felt.

“Saruhiko, are you okay?”

“...Stomach hurts,” He mumbled.

“Maybe some tea would help? My mom could make ginger tea...” Misaki suggested, standing as if he was about to go ask her to do so.

Saruhiko just shook his head.

Misaki felt his heart wrench in his chest. Saruhiko looked so small and miserable. He grabbed the extra blanket off the end of his bed, and laid it over him, hoping it'd help with his chills, if nothing else.

Fushimi took note of the gesture, and added warmth as a result of it, and somehow felt just a little bit better.

...

When Saruhiko awoke again, the room was dim and he could hear the soft murmuring of people nearby. He quickly guessed it must have been early evening, judging by the light. He closed his eyes again, deciding to feign sleep for a few more moments and listen to their hushed conversation.

“Ah, mom, are you sure he'll get better soon? He just doesn't look good...”

“Of course. His temperature is down a little. You've gotten sick like this before and been just fine, remember?”

Yata hummed an affirmative to his mother, who seemed to be moving some things around, judging by the sound of objects shuffling not far from Saruhiko's head.

“He does need to have a few sips of water. It'd be bad if he got dehydrated.”

“Yeah...ah, Saruhiko?” Yata asked, increasing his volume. His shoulder was jostled a little, and Saruhiko decided he should open his eyes.

“Hey, Saruhiko, can you take a drink? You need water so you don't get more sick from being dehydrated.”

Saruhiko reluctantly nodded, and pushed himself upright, noticing the bothersome amount of energy it took to do so. Yata's mom gave him a smile that made him feel self-conscious as she handed him a glass of water. He took a few sips, avoiding eye contact, and shuffled back down in bed when the glass was taken from him. To his surprise, a hand ran gently through his hair.

“Don't worry, Saruhiko, sweetheart. You'll feel much better tomorrow,” She assured him, and Saruhiko found comfort in an adult's words for the first ever time he could recall.

She left the room soon after when Megumi began crying from downstairs, leaving the two boys alone. Misaki sat down on the bed next to his friend, turning to look at him with concern.

“Are you okay? You're shaking a little.”

“...Fine...” He mumbled, trying to ignore the chills that, at this point, seemed bone deep.

Misaki said nothing for minute, then rose, pulling the covers back and crawling into bed with his friend.

“...Misaki?”

“Well, um...you were cold, right? I could feel you shaking, so...” Yata quickly explained, feeling guilty as he noticed his friend tensing slightly and pulling away.

Saruhiko's heart was thudding hard in his chest. He forced himself to relax a little, and take note of the comforting source of body heat next to him. The chills made him want to scoot closer, but the closeness to another person felt unfamiliar and strange.

Misaki gulped, feeling awkward, and began to move away when a clammy hand quickly moved to grab his wrist.

“Don't,” He murmured. “...I...I am cold.”

The redhead stopped, surprised, but moved closer to him, and hesitantly wrapped an arm over him.

“Ah...does that help?” He asked, knowing the answer before it was spoken as Saruhiko sighed blissfully and even nestled slightly closer to his touch.

“It helps,” He replies, softly, only barely audible.

“My mom's right, y'know,” Yata whispered. “You'll feel better tomorrow for sure. But, you don't have to go back home...to your dad, until you're really all better, okay? We don't mind taking care of you at all, we love you!”

Fushimi felt his heart twist in a way he couldn't explain. The feeling of being cared for, of being _loved_ had never been meant for him. _“I love you”_ and _“I'll take care of you”_ were words that he'd heard spoken, but never to him. The sky was blue, grass was green, and no one loved Fushimi Saruhiko, no one wanted to take care of Fushimi Saruhiko. That was the way it was, the way things had always been.

_We love you!_

Fushimi let himself snuggle closer to the warm body beside him, the words echoing in his head like a broken record that he had no intention of fixing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course as luck would have it i ended up getting super sick with the stomach flu in the middle of the night not long after i started this, after doing some editing on this only hours before. bad experience, but it did help me write saruhiko's experience in a way that was based more on recent reality and personal experience, which was...helpful? i suppose? thanks a lot body

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my first Sarumi work! Figured I had to get a fic out sometime, and Sarumi Fest 2015 seemed a good time. 
> 
> I knew I wanted to write a Sarumi Fest fic with this general plot (Fushimi getting sick and Misaki doting on him like the nuturing little sweetheart he is), but I was caught between two separate time periods in the plot to do it in. That said, I wrote two different fics with this general premise, and the other one takes place when they're in middle school, and involves Fushimi having an emotional breakdown and all sorts of fun stuff. So, if this is well received, I will finish up the other version and post it as a bonus chapter to this story. 
> 
> Thanks again, everyone, and Happy Sarumi Fest 2015!


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